Letter from Minnie
you really cannot sit around in the garden
all day painting blue stripes on paper. Yes the neighbour
found it, blown over, quietly ruined.
The shock of wrinkles in her dress. These women
with their sudden wedding invitations.
All I know is penniless and sitting on the desk
ready to be signed. We have clove-scented,
and the Japanese fans. We have your hospital tag.
Precisely, just as I asked in my last letter.
Looking back through the sketchbooks,
I see the prominent, the promenade, a prayer.
They had thirteen girls all called Mary.
His full name is scratched beneath but is
valid only until the end of next summer.
I opened the pod too early and found them,
hoping they will survive the postmark.
Here is the recipe you requested, though
faded into green, like photographs do.
If you can't answer my questions best not
ask them. I pegged the butterflies
and the paint ran tremendously, big glugs
and blue on new sandals and the heady
flowers that spin only clockwise in the evening.